


i loved you then and i love you now

by lonelydoctors



Series: idiots in love (sanji and zoro are inevitable) [18]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Drinking & Talking, Drunk Roronoa Zoro, Drunk Vinsmoke Sanji, Drunk confessions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Featuring, Fluff, Grocery Shopping, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Injured Sanji, Internalized Homophobia, Jealous Vinsmoke Sanji, Kinda, Love Confessions, M/M, Nakamaship, Pining Vinsmoke Sanji, Protective Roronoa Zoro, Relationship Study, Romantic Fluff, Roronoa Zoro and Vinsmoke Sanji Bickering, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Nothing, Ultimate Fighting Championship, basically 3k words of sanji pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelydoctors/pseuds/lonelydoctors
Summary: “What, you didn’t flirt with the shop lady? Are you sick or something, Cook?” Zoro greets him in a mocking tone and Sanji scowls and glares at him, snapping about how it’s none of his business, but their voices lack the usual venom and it’s not meant to be more than silly banter this time.





	i loved you then and i love you now

**Author's Note:**

> > okay so this has been sitting in my drafts for _forever_ now and i finally finished this! i have literally no excuse for this other than i am sucker for pining sanji and will go to the grave screaming about it

**| 6 |**

Sanji doesn’t even know what they’re arguing about this time.

He yells at Zoro because that’s what he’s used to, he kicks him because it’s the easy way out and Zoro fights back, equally as fierce and no less brutal than he would an enemy. They clash, fervently and viciously, with fire in their eyes and passion in their hearts, because that’s the only way they’ll leave this fight satisfied. Sanji doesn’t hold back and neither does Zoro, and maybe that’s what Sanji likes about it, this thing they have.

Sometimes he wonders why they always end up like this. As far he knows, nothing ever happened between Zoro and him, at least nothing that would explain this relentless rivalry and their constant hunger for confrontation. Yet, not a day day goes by where they’re not at each other’s throats, fighting with the intent to wound or mocking with the intent to hurt.

Sanji scoffs and avoids another one of Zoro’s swords, wondering, _what would it be like to get along? _Zoro glares at him, a murderous glint in his eye and when he swerves and prepares for a kick, he thinks, _what would it be like to not be stuck in this never-ending competition?_

He forgets, as Zoro lands a blow to his side, knocking the air out of his lungs and the thoughts out of his mind, and he bends over, panting heavily and feeling alive.

Hidden behind the shield of his hair, Sanji grins to himself, before he lifts his head, thinking he wouldn’t want it any other way.

He raises his hand and wipes the blood off his mouth, clearing the grin along with it, and waits as he watches, and observes, reaching for his pack of cigarettes with fingers shaking with adrenaline.

“That all you got, Marimo?”

Zoro’s eyes darken and he growls like a wild animal, as he bends down and puts one of his swords between his teeth.

“You wish, Cook.”

Sanji doesn’t even know what they’re arguing about most of the time.

He forgets, because his mind’s busy fighting. He forgets, because it’s never about the reason anyway.

It’s moments like these when he feels he truly knows Zoro. When they’re fighting, Sanji can feel it all; the power and conviction behind Zoro’s attacks a reflection of his personality, their fervour and sincerity a sign of mutual respect and trust, like an unspoken agreement between the two of them. They fight, like other people dance, stepping around each other and colliding roughly, somewhere between disaster and triumph, and it’s moments like these when Sanji feels most himself.

He’d rather clash with Zoro for the rest of his life than live oblivious to the roughness and thrill that is the wildfire of their relationship.

**| 5 |**

Despite that, it’s not always like this.

There are also moments like these, brief and mellow periods of time, shared just between the two of them, when they’re friendly and awfully comfortable and the blazing fire stills for a bit, now merely warming them as they live, side by side.

“Oi, Marimo. Can you hold this real quick while I go and fetch those herbs?”

Sanji points to the food stall behind him and Zoro hums in agreement before he reaches out and takes the bags of groceries from him. “I’ll wait back there,” he says and Sanji smiles then, the familiarity of the situation soothing him.

Sometimes there are moments like these, when they’re quiet and calm and it’s no less familiar than the times they roar and clash. They walk in silence, sharing only the occasional glance and laugh and it’s fine, because they don’t need words, they never do.

They don’t talk about it later either, when they start arguing again. Bloodlust returned to their eyes and animosity lacing their their voices, and sometimes, Sanji finds Usopp shaking his head in disbelief or Nami observing them intently when they turn from fighting viciously and brutally to cleaning dishes together in amiable silence.

They don’t understand and neither does Sanji; not yet anyway. He only knows what it feels like and to him, it feels normal and natural, familiar somehow – it feels right in a totally wrong kind of way and when he pays and heads back, he grins as he sees Zoro standing in the shade of the biggest tree, patiently waiting for him with shopping bags in both hands.

“What, you didn’t flirt with the shop lady? Are you sick or something, Cook?”

Zoro greets him in a mocking tone and Sanji scowls and glares at him, snapping about how it’s none of his business, but their voices lack the usual venom and it’s not meant to be more than silly banter this time.

Sanji goes to pick up the bags but before he can even bend down, Zoro’s already handing them to him, grabbing the bag of freshly bought herbs in exchange and putting it with the other spices. Blond hair blows in the wind as Sanji’s head whips up when their fingers brush and Zoro isn’t even looking at him when he takes the change out of his suit jacket and puts it back into his pouch, like he never did anything else.

He fixes his gaze on Zoro, furrowing his brows, and he thinks, _why does it feel so terribly intimate?_

They live, like they fight, wordless actions and smooth instinctive motions that leave no room for doubt that they have, at least, some kind of bond; whatever that bond may be.

It’s not always like most times because some times they’re close and hushed and tender and Sanji likes that, too.

**| 4 |**

Often they fight, but often times not each other.

They find themselves back to back, in the middle of a battle site in flames, defending their captain and their crew, defending their ship and defending each other.

It’s then that they can put their strange bond to the best use. It’s when Zoro blocks an enemy’s attack off while Sanji knocks him out from behind, it’s when Sanji lures them and Zoro cuts them down. It’s fast and sharp and efficient and their dynamic resembles that of seamless clockwork.

Sanji glances at Zoro – but there’s no need to, really – and he senses what his next move is going to be and he knows what his needs to be, and so he does, without a single word uttered between them, locking their enemies out until it’s just the two of them, against the rest of the world.

They fight and bicker and argue but when they fight together, that’s when they truly shine.

**| 3 |**

It’s the middle of one of their biggest banquets ever, and Sanji is furious.

He stands in the shadows, a bit next to all the others, smoking his sixth cigarette of the evening and the dark cloud looming over his head and ominous aura surrounding him is more than enough for no one to approach him.

Of all the people on this island, of all the people in their crew, _of course_, Zoro is the one who ends up chatting amiably with the only woman around. Sanji squints, mouth pressed into a thin line, and he watches from afar as their shoulders brush every so often and their distance to the rest of the crowd increases step by step. He watches as they lean closer to each other with every word and her vibrant laughs fills the air, and, _damn it_, Zoro doesn’t do things like that.

A sudden burning sensation alerts Sanji, snapping him out of his trance, and when he grudgingly tears his eyes away and looks down at his hands, he finds the butt of a cigarette singeing the tips of his fingers and he frowns. What a strange thing to happen to him.

He exhales throughs his nose and lifts his head, his gaze immediately zeroing in on Zoro and his female company, and he thinks, _of course it’s distracting him, it’s just plain weird._ Never had Sanji ever seen Zoro be so lighthearted and cheery, laughing and teasing airily, as his eyes sparkle while he talks animatedly – hell, that Idiot barely even talks to other people usually.

And Sanji knows, because he knows him best, and it hurts, because maybe he doesn’t.

As he fumbles for a new cigarette, he curses under his breath when he drops the whole packet on the floor, his fingers seemingly not cooperating with him today. His blatant irritation earns him a concerned look by Brook who took a break from dancing and is now sitting not too far from him.

“Is everything alright, Sanji-San?” he asks and Sanji hates the way his voice carries the distinct sound of pity he’d see in his eyes if he had any.

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be.” An answer like a bullet and Sanji knows that Brook knows he’s lying. “I’m just gonna go and get more food, seems like Luffy already ate most of it again…” he adds lamely, a terrible excuse, really, and walks off into the general direction of the kitchen. He considers a bit and ends up purposefully taking a detour to avoid walking past Zoro, and Brook stares after him pensively.

Before Sanji reaches the kitchen, his body freezes and he stops in the middle of the crowd, anger pooling in his stomach. He lets a moment pass, and another one, before he slowly turns around and his ocean blue eyes find Zoro again like they’re magnets and Zoro’s made of steel.

As if on cue, the raging beast inside of him awakens and grows and growls, the one that wants to roar and yell and kick, the one that wants to walk right over there and… and do what exactly?

A hiss escapes Sanji as he shakes his head frantically in order to get rid of those thoughts in his mind and he scoffs in disgust, messy hair and short breaths.

He tells himself that it’s got nothing to do with Zoro, he’s jealous of the woman, of course, but he can’t shut up the voice in his head whispering, _why are my exes fixed on Zoro then?_

**| 2 |**

It’s not like Sanji doesn’t know what's wrong with him.

He knows from the minute he wakes up, the throbbing ache in his lower half telling him that he’s got multiple broken bones, the piercing pain in his head and the bandages wrapped around it, indicating that he must have gotten quite a blow to the head. He blinks sluggishly before his eyes focus and he starts to scan his surroundings. Going by the state of his body and the view out of the infirmirary window, he guesses that he’s been out if it for at least four days.

Belatedly, Sanji realises that he’s not alone in the room and his breath hitches in his throat when he notices the person sitting in a chair at the side of his bed.

He swallows thickly, and it hurts, and he stares at the green head of hair resting on his chest as he snores faintly, and it aches.

It’s a rare occasion, to say the least, getting to watch the other sleep is not something Sanji can say he does often, so he stills and watches, tension leaving his body like water in the heat. Zoro’s hair is disheveled, he looks as if he didn’t shower for days and the crinkled and creased clothes he’s wearing are the same bloody ones he wore when Sanji last saw him, a look of horror crossing his face before his own vision faded. There are dark shadows under his eyes and lines on his face that aren’t normally there and it doesn’t take long for Sanji’s hazy brain to figure out that Zoro’s been in this room for quite a while (about four days, is what he estimates).

Suddenly Zoro stirs and his eye flutters open and Sanji immediately squeezes his own shut reflexively, pretending to be asleep. There are rustling noises and low groans and then he can feel Zoro standing next to his bed, watching him, and he hopes, prays, for his body to cooperate and not betray him.

“Stupid Cook…” Zoro mutters eventually and Sanji smells sweat and blood and steel mixed with the faint, familiar scent of Zoro and he has to suppress the urge to dig his fingers into the bedsheets. “Why do you always have to be so damn stubborn?” His voice sounds tired and strained and all of a sudden Sanji feels so utterly bad for stealing Zoro's precious sleep while he sits and watches over him because that’s what he assumes he did those last four days.>

He forces his breaths to come evenly and wills his heartbeat to slow down, thinking _it’s not like that, it’s not like that, it’s not like that._

More shuffling noises as someone moves around and Sanji wants nothing more than to open his eyes, he wants to see what’s going on, wants to regain some sense of control, wants to just _look_ at Zoro. He can’t, though, and strains his ears instead, focussing on the soft, steady breaths of the other and the clinking of his earrings.

Sanji nearly jumps when hot breath suddenly hits his face and a hand hovers above his head, eventually stroking his hair lightly, tucking loose strands behind his ears and carefully avoiding the bandages.

“I really hate you when pull shit like this, you know.”

Zoro’s hand lingers for a moment longer, almost caressing the top of his face, incredibly gently for a brute like him, before he pulls away, standing up straight again and Sanji has to keep his eyes from fluttering open.

“I’ll be back in a second,” Zoro murmurs and he hears the frown in his voice.

Sanji's heart is racing by now, pounding vigorously in his throat, and he finds himself startled, yet somehow not surprised at all, at the tenderness in the Zoro's gestures and the affection in his voice, and when Zoro leaves the room, he thinks, _when did I fall love in with him?_

It’s not like Sanji doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s just that doesn’t know what to do with that information now.

**| 1 |**

Zoro throws him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised, and Sanji nods curtly in response, keeping his hands busy with the dishes and his mind busy with tomorrow’s breakfast.

“See you later then, Cook,” he says as he leaves the kitchen and Nami smirks while Sanji fights his rising pulse.

-

They’re doing this quite often nowadays. Just the two of them, sitting in comfortable silence, sharing some wine and beer as they gaze up at the night sky and count the stars.

It’s not like it’s weird, because it’s not, it’s just that it’s hard, because it forces Sanji to think about all the nights he spent alone, thoughts of Zoro keeping him from sleeping, and all the times spent with Zoro, desperately trying to control the tone of his voice and the heat in his cheeks.

Zoro hands him a bottle and their fingers touch and Sanji feels as if lightning struck him.

It’s not like it’s weird, because it’s not, it’s just that it’s intense, because the alcohol only intensifies the way his body reacts and plunges his mind into overdrive, making it increasingly more difficult to ignore the fire burning around them.

He knows now, that what they have is special, different and rare, and he doesn’t want to risk losing it, whatever it may be.

“Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

Zoro’s head is turned towards the sky as the faint light of the stars reflects in his eye and Sanji didn’t ever think of him as the stargazing kind but as he observes his wistful gazing, it seems so perfectly obvious.

“About what?” he replies and takes a few gulps of wine, reluctantly averting his eyes from the other.

“Life,” is what Zoro says; Love is what Sanji feels.

Blond hair blows in the salty sea breeze as he leans back against the railing and hums in agreement, listening the sound of the waves hitting the sides of the Sunny and the rhythm of their steady, synchronic breathing. His gaze flickers to Zoro and he wonders, _do our hearts beat in sync, too?_

All those treasured moments shared between them, both good and bad, and all the silent glances and unspoken words lingering in the air surrounding them and Sanji knows their meaning and he knows Zoro does, too, but saying it, out loud, is a different kind of monster, one that Sanji doesn’t quite feel like slaying yet.

They’re doing this quite often nowadays and Sanji finds himself slowly choking on all the words he wants to say and all the thoughts he wants to avoid – and so he drinks, to forget, to remember, and to live.

The moon emerges from behind a cloud, turning on the night sky and Zoro squints against the sudden light, scrunching up his nose like the brightness makes him want to sneeze.

Sanji quietly sets his bottle aside and focuses his gaze, indulging himself for the moment as he lets his eyes linger on the figure of Zoro, taking it all in and soaking up as much as he can before the moonlight fades and leaves them in darkness again.

“I love you.”

He blurts it out suddenly and it’s harsh yet soft, it’s loud yet hushed and it’s everything that their wildfire of a relationship embodies.

The skin around Zoro’s eyes crinkles and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, not the slightest hint of surprise on his face, and Sanji smiles.

“I know.”

Their voices are hushed in the dark and it baffles Sanji how the world can keep on turning, how the others can keep on sleeping soundly, when it feels like his own world just accelerated and flipped upside down.

He looks at Zoro and his eyes scream,_ I loved you, I love you, I will always love you_, and Zoro puts his bottle down and shuffles closer, a knowing smile on his lips, because they don't need words, they never do.

They don’t either, when Zoro’s lips find Sanji’s and he feels a hurricane raging in his stomach and a forest fire blazing in his chest. He buries his hands in the Zoro's hair and drags him closer, biting down harshly and aching for more and in some way, their kissing feels like fighting.

Sanji grins against Zoro’s lips and lingers as they part, gasping for air, and he looks at the man in front of him with cheeks flushed and sparkling eyes that have nothing to do with the stars and he knows now, that what they have is special, different and rare, and he’d do it the same way every time.

“I love you, too, Cook.”

A whisper so quiet, Sanji isn’t sure Zoro really said it out loud, and he smiles as he thinks, _words will never be enough._

___

_I love you the way a knife loves a heart the way a bomb loves the crowd the way your mother warned you about, essentially. (the way a human loves another human)_

**Author's Note:**

> leave me a comment, maybe?  
[tumblr](https://lonelydoctors.tumblr.com) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/lonelydoctorss)


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